Sunday, March 23, 2008

The Hounds of Spring

A Song of Springtime, by Waterhouse.

Thanks to Tess, of Midnight Muse, for directing my attention to this gorgeous poem by Swinburne, a good friend to the P.R.B.

When the hounds of Spring are on Winter's traces,The mother of months in meadow or plainFills the shadows and windy placesWith lisp of leaves and ripple of rain...And soft as lips that laugh and hideThe laughing leaves of the trees divide,And screen from seeing and leave in sightThe god pursuing, the maiden's flight.

Where shall we find her? how shall we sing to her?Fold our hands round her knees, and cling?O that our hearts were as fire and could spring to her,Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring!For the stars and the winds are unto herAs raiment, as songs of the harp-player;And the risen stars and the fallen cling to her,And the south-west wind and the west wind sing.

For winter's rains and ruins are over,And all the season of snows and sins;The days dividing lover and lover,The light that loses, the night that wins;And time remembered is grief forgotten,And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,And in green underwood and coverBlossom by blossom the Spring begins...

The Beautiful Necessity

This blog is devoted to all things Pre-Raphaelite and Arts & Crafts. The two movements began during the Victorian era, and celebrated a return to the aesthetics and simplicity of medieval times, as well as the romance of nature and chivalry.

The central tenets of the two movements are still very important today, perhaps even more so.